


Primitive 2

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, M/M, Other: See Story Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 08:04:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>more melodrama than you can poke a stick at!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Primitive 2

## Primitive 2

by Shedoc

I don't own them - but I'm willing to negotiate!

I seem to have gotten carried away here! (chants I am relaxed)

Just some harmless fluff that has no real redeeming value but was taking up precious writing time.

This story is a sequel to: Primitive 1 

* * *

His head hurt. In fact, his whole body hurt. His rubs sent unhappy messages to his brain - there was actually a slight grating sensation with each breath. His left thigh was wet and hot. It stabbed at him from hip to toes. He couldn't move his right arm. There was a large jaguar prowling out of sight. 

"Kitten?" his whisper was almost inaudible to himself, but the Sentinel heard. His life mate appeared, scowling mightily, moving with the deadly controlled grace of instinct honed by years of training with the Covert Ops Rangers Unit. He lifted his left hand with a soft sound of pain and his kitten growled, dropping to cradle the hand, nuzzling at it with a worried whine. 

"Shh kitten," he soothed, tightening his grip as much as possible. Unfortunately, that wasn't much; it was taking all his concentration to whisper without passing out. The dim lighting made seeing difficult, but with his life mate so close he could see the small gash in the hairline. 

"C'm'ere," he tugged fitfully and the kitten came down, curling close with anxious little noises. He could see uneven pupils now and realised that the blast that had injured them both had also kicked his life mate into full-blown Primal Sentinel Blessed Protector mode. With himself injured - and badly at that if the pain, cold and general level of distress was anything to go by - there was no one to calm and soothe the distressed and injured Sentinel. 

"Can we get out?" he swallowed back the iron taste at the back of his throat. He was nuzzled in reply: definitely pre-verbal Sentinel. 

"Kitten?" he felt his strength going. The Sentinel sat up in alarm, hands ghosting over his still body, urgent noises going unanswered as the Shaman Guide once more slipped into the void. 

* * *

The Sentinel paused and tilted his head - listening t the people Outside. Outside was dangerous. Outside hurt the Shaman Guide. The Shaman Guide's pain and blood stained the air. The Shaman Guide had saved him, protected him with the precious owns body, sheltering him from the attack from Outside. Outside was coming closer - Shaman Guide had spoken about Outside. Was he afraid? The precious owns scent was muddied - tainted with hurt/sick/death... 

Sentinel growled, his senses blazing to full power. A breach in their prison was detected. It was large enough for them both to escape. Shaman Guide needed warmth/clean/fresh to take away the deadly cold/taint/dirt that was encroaching. Leaving the precious form, his senses split to monitor and protect while he went about enlarging and securing their escape. 

Shifting in the rubble showed that their small haven would soon collapse. Moving faster now, Sentinel returned and did what was needed to prepare Shaman Guide to move. When they were both ready he kissed still lips gently, set his heart and picked up the precious form. Ignoring the small sounds of pain, Sentinel took them both Outside, greeting the harsh daylight with a hostile growl. 

There were Others Outside - threats to his precious own. Growling constantly, Sentinel moved to a familiar sight, knowing that there would be help there, laying Shaman Guide in the back of it. Before he could move to the front a new scent intruded on his awareness. He met the source with a snarl. Nightman. Standing with his hands out, fear/concern tainting the musky/hot/spiced scent. Nightman spoke, anxious and yet relieved. Sentinel climbed up to curl around Shaman Guide, trusting Nightman to take them to the Territory - to be safe, to heal. 

The precious one was whimpering, tears of pain and illness leaking down the pale, still face. Sentinel cooed and touched; cradling the precious one close; soothing as best he could, his heart breaking. His own voice rose in distress, echoing Shaman Guide. All too late for them, the journey ended. 

* * *

Simon pulled up at the Emergency room in relief. When he'd heard the noises coming from Jim over the microphones the rescue workers had lowered into the rubble he'd cleared out an ambulance and pulled it up close to where the rescue workers had predicted he would emerge. The instinct driven Sentinel had recognised him and trusted their transport to him, growling out a single word in response to his words. 

"Nightman," the name Blair's emergency book stated was Jim's name for him when submerged in the Primal persona. The emergency book was tucked inside his jacket right now. They'd need it before this was all over - Simon was sure of it. 

Simon climbed through to the back with trepidation. Poor Blair must have been in agony - hence the terrible noises Jim was echoing. With Jim in his feral persona, the medics would have no chance of treating Blair's injuries. Any pain inflicted, accidentally or otherwise would be met with lethal force. His passengers had fallen silent a few minutes ago - not a good sign. For a heart stopping moment, Simon thought he'd brought two dead men to Cascade General. Blair was pale and gore smeared. Tear tracks ran from his eyes in lines of pain and suffering. Jim was like a statue - the anguish on his face apparent. 

As quickly and as gently as he could, Simon cut Blair's shirt off and then opened the doors. The medics outside had a second gurney ready. Together they got the overloaded one out and Jim onto his own, Blair's shirt going with him. Jim was zoned - Simon could see it now - and Blair's team pronounced their patient alive even as they were heading into the ER. Jim's team followed while someone started the bloodied ambulance and took it away to be cleaned. 

Brown jogged up, the bag that Blair had packed up and left in Simon's car for just such a calamity over one shoulder. Their eyes met grimly, and Simon shook his head, accepting the pack in silence and turning to follow his men into the ER. They'd have to fight for Jim now and trust Blair to survive. The forethought of the anthropologist was all that stood between the Sentinel of the Great City and death. That, and Simon's ability to become the `Nightman' that Jim trusted. Brown followed his captain inside. It was going to be a long night. 

* * *

Blair forced heavy eyes open. Brown was leaning over him, a handheld tape recorder used for lectures in his hand. Blair met the other mans eyes and nodded slightly. 

The fact that Brown was there with the recorder meant that Jim was zoned - deeply. Simon would be with him, pressing scents and textures into his awareness - using the emergency kit he'd made after the first emergence of Primal Sentinel. The instructions he'd compiled, as well as lists of drugs and stimuli to avoid would have been handed to doctors - who'd be mighty peeved by now. Jim and Blair had signed a unique power-of-attorney document. It put the core of Major Crimes in in control of them - in complete control over who did what, where and when to the two men. Doctors and Nursing staff would be vetted and their access to their patients restricted. They'd anticipated the hospitals attempts to override them and got the legal council to back them up - citing religious reasons as the purpose of having their colleagues approve their care. The Shaman had no qualms about the reasoning. 

Blair forced himself to remain in the present. Whatever painkillers or anaesthetics currently rushing through his system were really messing his head up. Brown smiled at him and put a light finger on his forehead, not wanting to run the risk of hurting the man in the bed who was linked to just about every machine known to man. They'd vetoed the respirator the doctors had wanted to install, citing it was only to be used if Blair could no longer breathe alone. He was on oxygen instead - breathing the rich mix shallowly. 

Brown thumbed the recorder on, taking the sensitive mike down to capture Blair's voice. It was so low that all Brown heard was a faint thread of noise, not the actual words. Blair spoke for a moment or so, then stopped, his eyes filling with frustrated tears. Brown turned the recorder off and brushed them away with careful fingers. 

"The head wound isn't serious," he soothed, "We gigot your shirt off to separate you, then managed to clean his hands before giving him that sweater of yours in the pack. He's kinda curled up around it. He's breathing on his own and his temperature is stable. Simon's got him in a room by himself. We just need this to pull him out - the pre-recorded stuff is already running on a loop in the personal CD player you packed - it brought him back halfway. This will do it." 

As he spoke, he brushed his fingers lightly over Blair's eyes, forehead and hair. The man in the bed let the touch lull him back to unconsciousness. His life mate was getting the care he needed. It would have to be enough until he could awaken again. 

* * *

The precious voice was strong and clear - confusing! He knew the precious one was hurt - maybe dead! Precious voice was clear now, so was precious scent - warm woolly held it, love scent tinged with day scent. Nightman's scent was near too, and Nightman's touch. Precious voice mixed with precious heartbeat and Territory noises. Confusing - Sentinel wanted precious, wanted to go to precious, but couldn't find precious. 

New sound - a Warrior. Nightman rumbled to Warrior. New sounds again - true voice! True precious voice! Calling! Wanting! True scent, mixed with Warrior scent, but fresh! Pain almost gone! Blood all gone! Sentinel groaned and captured Warrior's hand, then let go as True voice told him. 

Sentinel opened eyes and looked around. Warrior was moving back, rubbing at wrist while Nightman held box with True Voice. 

"Where?" Sentinel growled and all voices stopped, all voices gone. He blinked in fear, looking for precious, "Where?!" 

"Not far," Nightman pulled Sentinel up, gave support. Sentinel flinched a little from wrong touch, but couldn't walk without it. Warrior went first, then Sentinel and Nightman. Another Warrior fell in behind them. 

Precious True scent and sound and warmth reached from behind a barrier that Warrior opened. Sentinel growled in approval: Precious own was safely kept in his absence. Sentinel opened his senses wide - taking in precious own eagerly. Shaman Guide was lying so still and pale. Sentinel reached out, his hands ghosting over the precious body. Heat spoke of injuries and pain, making Sentinel growl. His head came up sharply, checking that they were safe, secure. 

Nightman stood guard over the door, watching over them both, watching for Sentinel until Shaman Guide could. Sentinel took Shaman Guide by the hand, cradling it tenderly. The precious owns deep blue eyes flickered open and sought his. 

Sentinel purred. 

* * *

Simon sighed in relief as Blair's eyes shut once more and Jim settled into sleep. His detective had purred and crawled up to share the bed eagerly, curling carefully around his injured partner. Whatever Blair had said to him had calmed Jim down. He'd nuzzled against his partner , then followed him to sleep. 

The problem now was to keep the hospital staff off their backs. As far as Simon could tell, once the lingering effects of the concussion had dissipated, Jim would return to himself. For now, his instincts were running high and they'd need to keep things as calm as possible. 

Noting the low levels of the IV going into Sandburg, Simon eased the door open and spoke quietly to Brown. Minutes later a doctor appeared. His grim look deepened when he saw the two men in bed together. 

"Is that really necessary?" he complained, gesturing to the now content Sentinel. 

"Yes," Simon said quietly, "Keep your voice down - you'll disturb them." 

The doctor snorted in irritation and checked Blair's vital signs as best he could with Jim curled around him. 

"This is impossible. He'll have to get up," the doctor reached to prod Jim awake and found his wrist caught in Simon's iron grip. 

"Do NOT wake him up," Simon growled, sounding very much like Jim at that moment, "Trust me, that would be very bad. Just work around him." 

"How am I supposed to..." Simon's free hand muffled the shouting doctor, his glare enough to frighten a Marine into obedience. 

"Look, just change the IV or take it out, or whatever," Simon ordered. The doctor's eyes flashed in anger. He yanked himself free and stalked out. Five minutes later a nurse arrived and changed the IV. She smiled at Simon - who was watching her like a hawk - and then went about her routine maintenance, easily adjusting for Jim's presence on the bed. 

Just as Simon began to worry that the Sentinel was zoned again, a quiet growl emerged from the still form. 

"Don't be silly," the nurse was unfazed, "If I don't do this, he'll get an infection." 

She finished her chores, Sentinel gaze following every movement, then nodded to Simon and left. Pale blue eyes met Simon's with laser precision, then swept over Blair once more before closing again. 

Nightman nodded in satisfaction and resumed his watch. 

* * *

Epilogue 

Blair opened his eyes. The bed was warm and soft. He felt barely a dull ache now - he was almost fully healed. Definitely out of hospital - the scents of home greeted him eagerly. The skylight let gentle sunshine through the micro blinds that Jim had installed there - sending bars of sunlight to stripe the bed. 

"Jim?" the call was soft - not due to weakness, but out of deference to sensitive hearing. Jim had yet to stand down from Blessed Protector, though the jaguar was back in its box. The Sentinel's hearing would be tuned to monitor his Guide. 

Jim appeared at the top of the steps and smiled. The amused affection in his gaze was apparent to anyone. 

"My blanket hog," he said in greeting, "You called?" 

Blair laughed lightly and snuggled down blatantly, careful not to wake the aches and twinges. 

"Out of curiosity, why did you put blinds in the skylight?" he smiled as Jim came to sit beside him, one hand resting on his among the folds of blankets. 

"You needed shade," he answered simply, "We can always take them down later." 

"My interior decorator," Blair chuckled, squeezing the fingers that tangled with his, "I thought you were trying to change spirit animals. You know, tiger stripes." 

"No way," Jim laughed, "his shoulders relaxing with the prolonged pain free contact, "The jag is bad enough. At least it's the right colour for night stalking." 

"Ooh," Blair teased, "Stalking, hey?" 

Jim snorted at the giggles and reached over to ruffle already wild curls. 

"Hey! Not the hair!" Blair protested lightly. He took a deep breath and eased himself up. Jim moved automatically to help, easing the stress on aching bones. Between the broken ribs, dislocated shoulder and the piece of metal that had lodged in his thigh, Blair would be moving slow and careful for a while. 

"Easy there," Jim protested, "Where are you going?" 

"Nature screams," Blair said in a long-suffering tone. Jim grinned. 

The catheter was a much-hated topic of debate and the bedpan had been even worse. Despite the fact that he'd been sent home with one and was one flight up from the bathroom, Blair had refused to use the pan. The doctors had charged Jim with continued bed rest and to ensure his `patient' used the pan. 

Jim used his Rangers training to assess the probability of winning the upcoming battle. 

"C'mon then," he got up, helped Blair move to the edge of the bed, then picked his Guide up in his arms like an old fashioned heroine being swept off her feet. 

"Frankly me dear," Blair breathed the words lightly as he was carried down the stairs, his good arm around Jim's shoulders. Jim chuckled again and `stood ready to assist'. 

Back upstairs and snuggled together, Jim waited for Blair to speak. The silence was comfortable, intentional. Blair waited until Jim was half asleep before speaking, his voice a little growly. 

"Thank you. Stand down." 

Sentinel purred. 

end 

* * *

End Primitive 2 by Shedoc: that_gal@btopenworld.com

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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